What Happens in Vegas
by 96 Hubbles
Summary: I know it's been done before, but here's another slightly AU take on 7x02 "Proof". Reid doesn't make it to Rossi's cooking lesson because he gets called away, and a friend comes looking for him.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Yeah, sure they're mine. That's why I still have to worry about my gas bill. _

**Chapter One**

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Bars in Vegas are never truly dark - the never-ending garishness of the city sees to that - but this one was dimmer than most, muted down from glaring to simply bright. Considering its clientele looked to be three-quarters off-call E/R docs trying to unwind before they headed home, it made sense the place was only mildly raucous. An intern with five-o'clock shadow was hammering away at an out-dated video game and the juke box was playing some song from the nineties, but most people were just drinking and talking and watching a ball game on the tv in the far corner.

"Hey, kid."

Reid turned from the bar, scotch in hand. "You're kidding me. Please, _please_ tell me this isn't about the party."

Dave Rossi raised his hands in surrender. "Nope, you won't hear a word about that from me."

Reid raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing it, but didn't press it.

"Mind if I sit down?"

"Would it stop you if I said no?" Reid asked, and turned back to the bar.

Rossi grimaced; belligerence he'd expected, but there was a layer of coldness to Reid's reply that surprised him. Still, he sat down. "Not going to ask how I found you?"

Reid shrugged. "Where else would I be?"

"Vegas, I'll buy, but I should at least get points for finding you in a bar. It's hardly your thing."

"I presume you called Bennington, likely playing the FBI agent card and telling them I was needed on a case, found out my Mom was admitted to Centennial Hills and decided to check the bar across the street - possibly on a whim - when you found I'd been kicked out because visiting hours were over."

Rossi signalled the bartender for a refill for Reid and one for himself. "How did I know you didn't go to a hotel?"

"You didn't. That would have been your next step if checking this place crapped out."

"Because checking all the bars in Vegas is so much easier than checking all the hotels?"

"No, because checking the one bar that's right across the street from the hospital is easier than checking all the hotels, especially considering I might have been so busy getting my Mom calmed down from her delusion that I was abetting her government kidnappers I might not have had time to find a place to stay yet."

"That hadn't occurred to me," Rossi admitted, raising his scotch to his lips. "So where'd you stay last night? Bennington?"

Reid nodded and his shoulders hunched almost imperceptibly, just for a second dropping his defensiveness and looking like their normal Reid. "I stayed up all night doing my best to reassure her," the younger man went on to explain. "Her doctors thought I should wait until today, right before they wanted to take her, but I couldn't pretend to be here on just a family visit and then turn around and let them haul her off; it would have been too much of a betrayal. She would never have trusted me again. Besides, she deserved to know the truth, even if it meant she had to be anxious for an extra fifteen hours and thirty-seven minutes."

"So what is going on?"

"They give the patients full physicals every six months. On her last one, her doctor found a lump in her left breast."

"That's rough. I'm sorry, Reid."

"Not your fault."

Rossi refrained from pointing out that taking the blame was not what people meant by "I'm sorry" in situations like these. Instead, he asked, "So she's getting a biopsy?"

"Yeah."

"They still use surgery for that? I thought they just needed some kind of special needle nowadays."

"There's several different procedures, including fine needle aspiration and a core needle biopsy, but it all depends on various factors. The size of the mass, the location, its appearance and characteristics…" Reid sighed and Rossi could hear his exhaustion, "In this case, they determined that an open surgical biopsy was best. And, well, it does have the benefit that she'll be under general anaesthesia. She would've never calmed down enough for anything else."

"Fighting it, is she?"

Reid smiled grimly. "She believes it's all a ploy to get her to some top-secret installation in the desert. I don't know, maybe if she'd found the lump herself… But she's never been lucid enough to keep up with any kind of self-examination.

"So her doctors asked me to come down and try to convince her otherwise, not that I wasn't planning on coming in any case, but they were hoping it would save everyone a lot of trouble if I could get through to her. It was supposed to be in a couple of weeks - I hadn't even talked to Hotch yet about getting the time off - but then they called Friday afternoon right after work and - "

"Reid… Spencer…" Rossi said and put a hand on the other man's back. "It's okay." The kid's white-knuckled hands were wrapped around his drink resting on the bar and Rossi couldn't tell if they were clenched so tight out of rage or fear. He suspected a little of both.

"I did text him," Reid said, "From the plane. He must not have gotten it, though."

"Why do you say that?"

"He sent me a text not long after, very collected, nothing that could be construed as angry or accusatory, only that he'd been 'slightly disappointed' I felt I wasn't ready to come to your cooking class. Then, later last night he chided me for not checking _my_ messages, telling me that no matter how I felt about what had happened, there was no reason to ignore everyone. "

Dave winced. Not that Hotch's words would have been completely out of line under normal circumstances, but then again, under normal circumstances, Reid likely would have broken down and at least sent some kind of word to Morgan or Garcia. Rossi knew without a shadow of a doubt their Unit Chief was going to feel like a heel when he found out what was going on.

"You haven't talked to Derek or Penelope, then?"

Reid didn't look at him. "They had their own disappointment in me to share."

"Ouch."

"Yeah, _ouch_," Reid said and raised his glass with a shaky hand to finish off his drink.

"It was just a miscommunication, though. You know they're going to feel like shit when they learn where you really were."

"I've got to be honest, Rossi, at this moment I really don't give a good goddamn."

Rossi nodded and finished off his own drink. "Understandable." Reid was about to signal for two more when Dave laid a hand on his arm. "What's say we call it an evening, Reid? I'll get us a taxi and you can share a hotel room with me."

"I can find my own room, thanks all the same."

"Yes, but it won't have me paying for room service, will it now?"

"I think I'd rather be alone, if you don't mind."

"Oh, but I do mind, il mio amico."

"Why?"

"Because your mother has enough on her plate - she doesn't need seeing her only child looking like death warmed over. So you're going to come with me, get some dinner into you, have a good night's sleep, and then you can be strong enough for her to lean on without you both falling over."

"I don't see when she'll have to physically lean on me. They'll wheel her out on a gurney to a recovery room when the procedure is done."

Rossi forgave Reid's tendency for being overly literal just this once. The kid's focus was always so intense he missed nuances at the best of times; now, bleary-eyed and emotionally overloaded, not to mention under the influence of who knew how many drinks other than the amount was one Reid was likely unused to, he couldn't expect the man to grasp such mundane details as metaphors. "Never mind, Spencer," Rossi told him. "Just come with me, all right?"

Reid acquiesced with a shrug, not looking at the older profiler, who had to practically pull him along. "You'd think I was dragging you off to the gas chamber," he complained.

"Actually, did you know that the first use of the gas chamber was at Nevada State Prison on February 8, 1924? They were trying to execute a man named Gee Jon for murdering a 74-year-old laundry proprietor and member of the rival Bing Kong Tong gang. They tried pumping the gas directly into his cell, but that didn't work, so they had to use a makeshift chamber…"

Rossi tuned out most of Reid's rambling without thinking, but there was a smile on his face as he got a taxi. The return of the familiar telling of long-winded anecdotes told him that the younger man was unconsciously relieved to have someone reaching out to him. _If he starts spouting off statistics, then I__'__ll know he__'__s really found his feet again,_ the experienced profiler thought.

-x-

The hotel was a fairly classy place, though being in Vegas it couldn't altogether escape from a hint of flashiness as well. Still, from the slight widening of his young friend's eyes, Rossi could tell Reid wasn't expecting to put up for the night in such sumptuousness.

"This is certainly not the general accommodation we get with the Bureau," Reid said.

"Enjoy it!" Rossi told him as he checked them in. "Relax. We'll have some dinner and watch a movie. Do you want a massage?"

"WHAT?" Reid squeaked.

"A massage. They give a great Swedish massage here, or Shiatsu, if that's your thing. I can arrange for you to have one. Or go for a swim - this place can supply a suit if you didn't bring one. Take a sauna bath or lounge in the hot tub. It might help you relax and get some sleep," Rossi explained as the clerk handed him two keys.

"_Ohhhhh.__"_

Rossi glanced up and burst into laughter. "Geez, Reid, you didn't think…? Ha! No, no, the legal kind."

"I wasn't thinking that. I thought _you_ were offering to give me one."

Rossi sputtered; the kid was perfectly serious! After a moment, Rossi laughed again and clapped Reid on the back. "How about we just stick to dinner on our first date then?"

Reid froze, sheer panic on his face.

"Kidding, Reid. Kidding."

"Oh."

-x-

Dinner had been good, if a little subdued. When Reid had refused to say what he wanted for dinner other than, "Whatever's easiest is fine," Rossi, thinking the younger man looked a little washed out, ordered for iron content as well as calories and got them each a large steak, a baked potato and whatever green vegetable - which turned out to be broccoli - was freshest. They ate in the room and, by the way Reid was starting to droop, Rossi was glad to have spared him going out to a noisy, crowded restaurant. Now, watching _Blazing Saddles _- a comedy old enough not to require much thought or reaction, just smiles - Rossi looked at his friend sitting on the other bed, arms wrapped around his long spindly legs. A corner of the younger man's mouth would occasionally quirk if something particularly funny happened onscreen, but nothing seem to touch his faraway gaze.

A buzzing sounded from Rossi's go bag just as Sheriff Bart was meeting the Waco Kid. He pulled out his cell, got off the bed and walked across the room so as not to interrupt the film for Reid.

"Rossi."

"Dave, where are you?" Hotch asked.

"Vegas."

Hotch huffed in relief on the other end. "That's great! So you know what's going on? Is he there with you?"

"Yeah. He's fine," Rossi shot a glance over to where Reid was sitting, still staring at nothing. The younger man hadn't even looked over, even though he had to have guessed he was being talked about. "Well, as good as can be expected," Rossi clarified.

"God, Dave, I just found his message… Do you know what's going on? He didn't say much, just about some emergency with his mother. Is it bad?" His Unit Chief was speaking in his stony, handling-the-situation voice, but Dave was sharp enough, and had known Aaron long enough, to tell the man was a little ruffled at the moment.

"Could be," Rossi said. "Look, just a sec." He moved a few steps towards his roommate. "Reid," he said gently, "Hotch is on the phone. He's asking about your Mom. What would you like me to tell him?"

Reid held out his hand and Rossi passed him the phone. After that, he only heard Reid's half of the conversation. _"__Yeah / It__'__s a biopsy. They found a lump on her breast. / They__'__re not sure. / Yeah. / No. / No, I don__'__t want that. / No, Rossi__'__s here, I don__'__t need anyone else. / No, really. / Yeah. / Till Tuesday, maybe. / No, they won__'__t know for two or three weeks. I__'__ll have to come back then. / Thank you. / Okay.__" _Reid passed him back his cell phone.

"Dave, you still there?" Hotch asked.

"Yeah."

"I'll fill the others in. He doesn't want anyone else to come down."

"That's probably for the best right now."

"Do you think it has anything to do with what's been happening with J.J., Emily and I?"

"It's hard to say, but I think a lot of it is simply him needing some space."

"You know Morgan and Garcia are going to have fits. They'll want to be on the first plane down, especially _now, _after everything_._ Hell, everyone will."

"I get it. But keep them on a leash, Aaron. Tell them to sit tight and trust Reid to know what he wants right now."

"Like you did? How did he react to your showing up?"

"Okay, so I'm a hypocrite. But seriously, Aaron, I'll talk to him, but I don't think he wants to be too crowded at the moment. Me, I'm just here to make sure he eats."

"All right, I'll do what I can. But make sure he knows any one of us will be down there in a second if he needs us. And tell him I'm sorry for what I texted him before."

"I will. I'll talk to you later."

"Right," Hotch said and hung up.

Rossi caught Reid looking at him out of the corner of his eye. "Hotch wanted to know if I was keeping them away because of J.J?"

"Yeah."

"What did you tell him?"

"You must have heard me."

Reid shrugged. "I suppose I just wanted to make certain. Anyway, thank you for telling him what you did."

"Sure."

-x-

Bart and Jim had just traded their horses for a car and driven off into the sunset when out of the blue Reid said, "It isn't just about J.J."

"I didn't think it was."

Reid was curled on one side, propped up against the headboard of his bed. "I know she and Hotch and Emily had to do what they did. I get it, I really do."

"I know you do, but I also understand that it still hurts, and that's okay. The cooking lesson wasn't meant to solve everything, you know. It was just supposed to be a start."

"I know," Reid said. The tv channel they were on must have been having a Mel Brooks night because _Young Frankenstein _started up. The two men watched for awhile before Reid spoke again.

"Do you remember the Owen Savage case? In Texas?"

"Reid, don't."

"Oh, ah…yeah… okay. I guess you don't need to hear something so embarrassing. I'll shut up and -"

"It's not that, Reid. It's that you've had a few drinks and you're upset and exhausted. I don't want you to start pouring your heart out if you're going to wake up tomorrow and wish you hadn't. I'm more than happy to listen if you really want to talk - in fact I'd be thrilled - but I don't want you to end up with a pile regrets on top of everything else. So just think about what you really want to tell me before you start talking - you're stuck with me till Tuesday, you'll need to be able to look me in the eye at least some point during the next couple of days. Besides, the last thing you need is to feel another person is manipulating you, even if it's just by letting you ramble when you're in a bad state."

"Oh, okay," Reid repeated, a little happier this time though. "Thanks for… thanks, Rossi."

"No problem. But if you still do want to talk…"

"Maybe."

"All right, then. Anytime you want, kiddo."

Reid nodded, but said no more that night. Rossi looked over just after Gene Wilder and Peter Boyle had done their "Puttin' on the Ritz" number to find his companion fast asleep. He got up and eased Reid down to a lying position and pulled the covers up, making sure the sheet folded well over the top of the bedspread, to save Reid from the "germ-covered" outer blankets. He watched tv for another hour or so, switching from the movie to the second game of a double-header and fell asleep sometime after the eight inning.


	2. Chapter 2

_Wow, this chapter didn't go anywhere where that I thought it would!_

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**Chapter Two**

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If anyone ever wanted evidence of a secret hive mind controlling society, they had no further to look than the typical hospital waiting room. All over the Western World - doctor's offices, dentist's offices, hospitals - hundreds and thousands of rooms all with the same rows of cheap, light vinyl-covered chairs; the same muted pastel walls; same vapid mass-produced art on said walls; same old mindless magazines and the same ten-year-old tv bolted to one corner showing a never-ending run of talk-show hosts telling you how to make a nutritious smoothie "your kids will _really_ enjoy".

Rossi skimmed through a torn issue of _People_ with its four-page article on Jennifer Anniston's latest boyfriend, turning the pages more for the physical exercise of it than anything else, and trying not to snap at Reid, who was twisting a candy wrapper in his long fingers. Rossi knew the kid was on edge, and with good reason, but the constant crackling sound was getting on his nerves.

"Reid, I know these magazines aren't your style - would you like me to check the gift shop to see if they have any half-decent books?"

His young colleague shook his head.

_Okay, no reading, no talking - this is bad. So try another tactic. _"Maybe we could go get a coffee?" Rossi asked.

Reid shook his head again, still not saying anything.

"How about - " Rossi began, but Reid interrupted him.

"She screamed at me," he said. Rossi didn't know what to say. "She said no one had ever had such an awful, deceitful son as her," Reid went on. "One who would turn his own mother into to the government after all she had done for him."

"She's not lucid right now, Reid. You know that."

"I couldn't get through to her. She started… _they had to restrain her!_ She kept thrashing around. Hitting herself. Beating her hands against her head and screaming for them to let her out. "

Dave put a hand on the back of Reid's neck. Reid didn't usually like to be touched, he knew, but sometimes even the young genius needed physical comfort. Rossi took it as a good sign that Reid didn't flinch away. "Spencer, I can't begin to know what you're going through. All I do know though, is that you did nothing wrong. You had to let them bring her here. She has to have the biopsy. I normally don't condone ignoring someone's wishes when it comes to their health, but your mother is not able to make an informed choice right now. So it had to be you and I'm sorry for that, but you did the right thing.

"Look, I guess it comes down to this: do you love her enough to - temporarily - sacrifice her affection for you in exchange for her health, or would you risk her life just to spare yourself her anger?"

Reid swallowed hard. "The first one," he answered.

"Good man."

"But what if it turns out she's sick and she won't let me help?"

"You help her anyway. She'll come round."

"But if my being there only increases her agitation? How would that help her?"

"Why don't you cross that bridge when you come to it, huh?"

"You know, I've never understood the etymology of that expression. How can you cross a bridge before you come to it? Speaking in terms of physics - "

"Don't do that, Spencer," Rossi told him, interrupting Reid before the younger man could gather speed on his ramble. "Don't try to change the subject by going off on a tangent. Ask the question you really want to ask."

Reid fidgeted, silent for some moments. "What...what if she _dies_ before she forgives me?" he finally asked in a whisper.

"Then you, my friend, will have to remember all the times she told you she loved you, and accept that that was the _real_ her talking to you. This today? That was the illness speaking. The illness and her fear. It wasn't her. You _know _her. You know how she really feels. Think back to the Riley Jenkins case - _she _was the one who knew how much you needed the truth. Not the rest of us. She knew how much you needed the truth and she risked her own health by going off her meds to give it to you. A mother doesn't do that if there's no love. And a mother doesn't get that intuitive grasp of who her child is without it either. Your mother loves you. She loves you more than anything else in this world and if she never remembers it again, then that just means _you__'__ll_ have to remember for her."

Reid didn't look at him, but there was one hitching breath and then a shaky nod, followed by a quick swipe of his hand across his eyes. Suddenly Reid jumped to his feet and strode swiftly off towards the bathrooms down the hall. Rossi let him go, knowing the younger man wouldn't want him to see him lose his composure.

_-x-_

The surgery went smoothly and, while the results wouldn't be known for a couple of weeks, the fact that his mother had got through at least this part relieved Reid to some small degree.

"What would you like to do now?" Rossi asked after Reid had visited his mother in recovery. "You should go and blow off some steam, enjoy yourself for a few hours."

"No, thank you," Reid said wanly. "But you go if you'd like. I'll be all right at the hotel."

"C'mon! What fun am I going to have on my own?"

Reid stared at him for a moment before dryly mentioning, "Well, apparently there's a casino or two in town. Least so I've heard."

Rossi actually snorted. "Was that a joke?"

"From me? Nah, couldn't be that."

"A casino. In _Vegas_. Imagine that!" He grinned at the man. "Good to know you can still smile, kid." But as quick as it was there, the smile was gone again, fleeing before the returning shadow. "You okay, Reid?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You keep rubbing your forehead. And every so often you squint like the light's bothering you."

Reid shrugged. "It's nothing. Bit of a headache. Likely stress from everything that's been happening."

"Okay then, let's head back to the hotel."

"You don't have to - "

"Don't worry about it, Reid. I want to freshen up and get something to eat anyway."

So, after a late lunch from room service (Reid only managing to eat about a third of his), Rossi went out for a few hours. He was a bit torn about leaving Reid, who was suddenly looking a touch peaked, but figured the other man might appreciate a bit of space and some quiet time alone after the emotionally gruelling day he'd gone through. Rossi hit Bally's and Bellagio's and a few others on the Strip, had a few drinks and then went out for dinner. It was a little dull on his own, but from the way the tightness between his shoulder blades loosened a bit, he realized he'd needed a break nearly as much as Reid had.

Coming back to the room, he was happy to see Reid asleep. Dumping the steak sandwich, fries and bottle of ibuprofen he'd picked up for his friend on a table, he was thinking about turning in himself when he decided to check his messages.

"_One hundred and seven!__" _he exclaimed before he could stop himself.

Reid stirred at the noise, but didn't wake. He rolled over and whimpered something that sounded like, "Leave me alone, J.J.," but then fell quiet again.

Rossi looked to the heavens for guidance. Sometimes he wondered if this crazy family of his was just a little _too_ close.

_-x-_

He didn't know what woke him. Just one of those things, he supposed, where one minute you were completely under and the next _Bang! _you were wide awake. The green numbers of the digital clock read 4:17.

"Are you awake, Rossi?" Reid asked from the other bed, startling him badly.

"Jeez, kid!"

"Sorry."

"Yeah, okay. Forget about it. How about you - you been awake long?"

"Since 2:04," Reid replied.

"And you've just been lying there, doing nothing the whole time?"

"I didn't want to wake you."

"Right." A thought occurred to Rossi. "You haven't been lying there staring at me for two hours, have you? Because that would be a little weird."

"Two hours and thirteen minutes, and no, I wasn't staring at you. I was thinking."

"Oh? Care to tell me?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," Rossi told him.

"How did you know Emily hadn't really died?"

_Never an easy one, huh kid? _Rossi took a moment and considered his answer. "I don't really know. It wasn't anything definite, just… things that didn't seem right."

"What sort of things?"

"Well, I remember going to see the M.E. on a case a few weeks later, when one of his assistants came in to take another body out to send it to the funeral home. That made me think of something Emily had once said about wanting to be cremated."

"I remember! The Roderick Gless case. He was kidnapping and embalming young blonde women, as surrogates for his dead au pair. We were flying out to Olympia, Washington. And…" Reid broke off suddenly, and Rossi could guess why.

"And now you're asking yourself why you didn't remember that."

"I could have. I _should _have! The clue was right there!"

"Reid, don't beat yourself up about it. You were grieving."

"So were you!"

"It was just luck, Reid. The M.E.'s assistant coming in at just the right time. He triggered the one little connection to a memory that got me wondering and going over everything again."

"So there were other clues?"

"Once I started thinking, I found it strange that Prentiss's parents hadn't been at her funeral. I know they're important and busy people, and I know Emily's had her problems with her mother, but her parents still love her. And even if they didn't, they're the kind of people who still would have made the time to come for propriety's sake, if nothing else."

"God!" Reid swore and punched the headboard of his bed.

"Reid, it's not a big deal."

"Yes, it is!" Reid practically shouted.

"What are you doing?" Rossi asked as Reid whipped the covers off of himself, jumped out of bed and started stripping off his pyjamas.

"I'm getting dressed and then I'm going out."

"Where are you going to go at four in the morning?"

"Out! This is Vegas - there's always some place open," Reid said, furiously yanking on a pair of pants. Shirt and shoes were on and Reid out the door before Rossi could blink.

_Shouldn__'__t you go after him? _Rossi's conscience asked.

_He__'__s twenty-nine, _the practical side of him argued.

_He__'__s also a distraught ex-addict at the end of his rope, _his conscience reminded him. _Is it really a good idea for him to be roaming the streets of Vegas in the middle of the night? _

"Damnit!" Rossi swore out loud and got out of bed. He dressed as quickly as he could, but Reid had vanished by the time he got to the lobby.

.

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_Okay, a little shorter this time, but on the plus side, you'll be getting at least one extra chapter. (I really thought this would merely be a two-shot.) Anyway, huge thanks to all of my readers and reviewers!_ _Hope you enjoy this chapter as well! _

_Oh, and while I've mentioned a couple of things from episodes ("Memoriam" and "Cold Comfort"), the story of Rossi and the M.E.'s assistant is just something I made up. Being the expert profiler he is, he probably guessed almost immediately that Emily was alive, but for the purposes of my story he will initially have been just as in the dark as Reid, Morgan and Garcia were when J.J. first told them. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

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After rushing out the door and taking a quick look down both sides of the street and not seeing his missing colleague anywhere, Rossi ran back into the hotel and asked at the front desk. The clerk hadn't noticed anyone matching Reid's description in the last few minutes, nor had anyone else in the lobby. Rossi then tried Reid's cell, hoping the man had taken it with him. No answer. Finally he made a speedy circuit of the hotel's restaurant, which like Reid had intimated, was open twenty-four hours, making sure to check both the restrooms and the row of slot machines near the west wall of the dining area.

Coming up blank, Rossi was now at a loss as to where to try next. The fact is, Reid had the advantage if he truly wanted to get away - 187 I.Q. and this was his home town. Not only could the genius make a good stab at out-thinking him, there would have to be hundreds of places Reid would know about, places that would have connections to his former life, that Rossi couldn't even dream of. _Searching for a Las Vegan in Las Vegas - great! _he groused inwardly. _Might as well be looking for a needle in a haystack. Or as Reid would put it, a particular needle in a pile of needles. _

There was one option, but he really didn't want to do it. However, if it would keep Reid from doing something stupid and hurting himself…

He sighed as he punched the number into his cell. _Kid, if you get me in trouble with her, your life isn__'__t going to be worth living. _

After nine rings there was finally an answer. "Hello," the voice on the other end groaned. "This is your goddess of why the crap are you calling me at quarter to five in the morning?"

"I'm sorry, Kitten, but I need you to do something for me."

Penelope Garcia was immediately awake. "Rossi? What is it? Did something happen to Reid? I swear, if you let something happen to my baby boy while his mother is sick, I'll hack into the I.R.S. and make sure you're audited every single year till apes rule the planet!"

"That's what I'm trying my damnedest not to do." He gave her the quick lowdown. "Can you locate his cell with your home computer?"

"As long as you never breathe a word to Hotch of just how many Bureau resources I might've brought to my place for a sleepover, your wish is my command, my guardian angel."

"Thank you, Penelope." Still standing in the hotel lobby, he listened to the high speed clicking of the tech analyst's keyboard two thousand miles away, but instead of a yell of triumph and an address, all he got was a frustrated, _"__Damnit, Reid, what did you do?__"_

"What's wrong?" he demanded. "Did he leave it here at the hotel? Where's the signal coming from?"

"That's just it! I'm not getting a signal! As in nil, nothing, zip, nada. Even if it was off or needed charging I should still be getting something! (1) Boy Wonder must have done something to his phone or…oh! Oh, Rossi, you've got to find him! What if he's been mugged or hurt or fallen in a ditch or…"

"Calm down, Penelope. He's only been gone twenty minutes. I don't think there's a ditch anywhere close enough to here for him to find in that time. As for a mugger, well, he'd want the phone in one piece, wouldn't he?"

"Not if he just took Reid's wallet and pushed him down or shot him and Reid fell on his cell phone and - "

"Don't let your imagination get ahead of you, Garcia. There's no real reason to panic yet. For all we know, there could be an all-night library in Vegas."

"From your lips to God's ear, my doer-of-good-deeds," she prayed and Rossi could hear her still typing furiously away.

"Still no luck?"

"Nothing. And no all-night libraries."

"You actually checked?"

"Of course! No lead is too big or too small to find my junior G-man! What I am going to do though, is send you a list of all the all-night coffee shops, diners, and doughnut franchises within a ten-block radius of you. I don't want to think of Reid doing something so stupid as… you know, _that_, so I'm going to stay positive and tell myself he's getting his caffeine and sugar fix instead."

Rossi smiled despite his worry; the idea was pure Garcia: positive _and_ brilliant.

"Thanks again, Garcia."

"Just find him, Rossi."

"I will, Penelope."

"And make sure to call me! Or else I'll have to unleash my technical gremlin minions on your credit rating!"

"Right!"

_That woman is the strangest mix of sweet and scary I__'__ve even met, _Rossi thought as he hung up and asked the front desk clerk to call him a taxi.

_-x-_

It took close to two and half hours, but Rossi eventually spotted his quarry at a retro-fifties diner called the Atomic Café, on a side street just off of Las Vegas Boulevard. Paying off the taxi, he went in and sat next to his friend.

"I'm steady finding you sitting at counters this weekend," he said. "You have anything besides coffee in the last two hours?"

"You mean did I get a fix?"

"I didn't, but I would like to know."

"No. I didn't."

Rossi believed him. He got the feeling from Reid's red eyes and the way his head was hanging down that maybe he'd thought about it - that, in fact, he might've come very, very close - but to Rossi's expert eyes and ears that seemed to be as far as the confession needed to go.

"Come on, then. Let me buy you some breakfast. Unless you ate that steak sandwich I bought you last night, you probably haven't had anything since lunch yesterday." Reid nodded and so Rossi lead him to booth in the far corner. They ordered and after the food came and Reid was steadily picking away at a huge omelette, potato pancakes and sausages, Rossi let his mind wander.

Out of all his team-mates, his relationship with Reid was the hardest to define. When he'd first joined the team, frustrated and slightly annoyed at having to adjust to working as member of a group at all, he'd frequently found the over-eager, fact-spewing and awkward Doctor exasperating. Even as he eventually made friends with the others and gained a place in their working rhythm, he found it difficult not to dismiss Reid as nothing but the Bureau's showpiece or Jason Gideon's pet project - a dangerously inexperienced know-it-all foisted on the Unit by the higher-ups who like the idea of a genius working for them, without a thought to the reality of what they faced.

Slowly, the stereotype he'd taken for truth had given way before the evidence of Reid's skill, dedication and personal strength. That the younger man had carved a place for himself despite his appearance of weakness and lack of social skills showed a great endurance of spirit, and, as Rossi watched him either solve or play a vital role in solving case after case after case, he couldn't deny the man's worth. And so - though he'd found it took more effort than with, say, Morgan or Prentiss - he'd come round and grown to like Reid the same way he did the rest of his team. Reid, like the others, became part of his new family and in his more whimsical moments (which, truthfully, were few and far between), he pictured himself as the cranky uncle of the group, helping the orphaned Aaron rein herd over his wayward younger siblings.

It wasn't until seeing Reid's panic while under hypnosis the time Reid was searching for answers about his father and Riley Jenkins that Rossi considered there might have been another reason he'd been reluctant to get close to Reid.

Spencer was too close to James's age.

It had hit him as he'd tried to calm the panicking Reid as the hypnotist pulled the kid out of it: all that time, some part of him had been unconsciously avoiding Reid because it hurt to be near someone so close to how old James - _Jimmy_ - would have been.

After that though, things had changed. Dave really couldn't say he thought of Spencer as his son, as if he was a substitute for Jimmy, but now Spencer Reid somehow solidified Jimmy to Rossi. Or at least a different version of him.

David Rossi had had a total of one hour holding his son, and then another of watching his first wife Carolyn hold him as the boy slipped away. That was it. Two measly hours. Two wonderful, devastating, heart-breaking hours. And then from that moment on, though he'd often try to imagine Jimmy as he got older - as a toddler, as a nine-year old wanting his father to teach him how to hunt, as a teenager who'd insist on being called Jim or James instead of Jimmy - that image of the tiny infant was the one that always came in strongest. Jimmy was with him, but always and forever as a tiny, pink, broken bird-like presence in his arms.

Until Reid.

Spencer wasn't quite as old as Jimmy would have been - Rossi knew the man's birthday was sometime in late '81, so that put him at about two and a half years younger - but the difference was negligible. (2) Reid was the first person Rossi had ever worked with who was Jimmy's age, and seeing Reid everyday, being forced to confront the _man_ Jimmy would have been now if he'd lived, had felt like a threat to Jimmy's memory, though Rossi had never known it. It was foolish, but after the incident with the hypnotist, Rossi had realized that some hidden part of him must have thought that dealing with Reid everyday would eat away at his picture of the infant Jimmy.

Instead, it had given him a new one.

It wasn't quite as simple as him picturing Spencer as Jimmy. In all his dreams, no mix of him and Carolyn ever came up looking quite like Reid, but the young doctor's presence began to strengthen another vision of his son for him. For the first time, Rossi could picture a young man, one maybe even taller than him like Reid was, one who had gone to college and was now in law enforcement himself, working for the Bureau somewhere else perhaps and calling home occasionally for fatherly career advice. Rossi would even sometimes look at Reid and have a fantasy enter his head, a world where Reid and Jimmy had gone to college together and become best friends, with Reid the boy with the troubled home life who becomes nearly a second son to him, showing up for family dinners and school vacations and fishing trips.

It was a bittersweet delusion, but Rossi still welcomed it at times. And while he worried every so often that it wasn't fair to Reid, this daydream had the benefit of making him more protective of his colleague than he ever imagined when he first met the kid.

But it was time to separate the man from the image. Reid, the _real_ Reid, not the laughing young man rough-housing with his son in his daydreams, needed someone.

"Did you call your father to tell him about what's going on?" Rossi asked Reid out of the blue.

Reid nodded, but couldn't look at him.

"And?" Rossi prodded.

Reid shrugged as he took a sip of coffee, as if to say, _"__Who knows?__"_

"Okay."

"You know, I think he does care about her," Reid finally said. "He said he'd try to be at the hospital. But I suppose he just couldn't handle the idea of dealing with yet another illness of hers when he couldn't even deal with the first one."

Rossi tried to be positive for Reid's sake, saying, "Maybe he just needed to work up his courage. Maybe you'll see him there today."

"Yeah, maybe," Reid agreed, but his voice didn't seem to hold out much hope, and privately Rossi thought the kid was likely right. From what Reid had later told him and Morgan after Mr. and Mrs. Reid had spilled the truth about Riley Jenkins' death, William Reid didn't come off as a cruel man, but neither did he strike Rossi as a strong one. While the elder Reid might truly love his wife and son, it was easier to believe the man was going to duck out of this whole situation and then think that eating himself up about it the rest of his life would make it okay.

A father who would have loved to help his son loses him, and a son who needs a father's help but can't get it. It should be a perfect match, but all it really felt like to Rossi was a great big mess.

Still, he was here and William Reid was not, so Rossi ordered himself and Reid each another cup of coffee.

"There's a couple of hours yet before visiting hours at the hospital," he told his friend. "If you think you'd like to tell me what was on your mind the other night, I'm in the mood to listen."

.

* * *

_Author's notes:_

_1) Truthfully, I have NO idea how this kind of search works, or whether its possible in real life, but it seems like something Garcia could do._

_2) Criminal Minds Wiki gives Reid's birthday as October 9, 1981, making the character roughly a year and a half younger than Matthew Gray Gubler himself. James Rossi's birthday was listed on his headstone as Apr. 26, 1979, so there's almost exactly two and half years between the two._

_Huge thanks to all of my readers! The response has been wonderful! Hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'll try to get the next up soon. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**.**

* * *

**.**

"_There__'__s still a couple of hours before visiting hours at the hospital,__"__ he told his friend. __"__If you think you__'__d like to tell me what was on your mind the other night, I__'__m in the mood to listen.__"_

Reid seemed reluctant to meet his eyes. Rossi looked on calmly, pretending not to notice the long fingers drumming against the table, nor making any sign when Reid clued into his own agitation and whipped his hands under the table to hide his involuntary fidgeting.

"You don't have to," Rossi said. "I'm not trying to drag in out of you."

Reid shrugged nervously. "No, I… It's just people don't usually encourage me to talk," he joked.

"First time for everything."

"I'm not certain where to start."

"Start with something simple and go from there."

"Simple, huh? Well, I'm sorry for running out last night," Reid began. "I really didn't expect you to come looking for me. I just had to be by myself for awhile. And I had to… I don't know, _do something. _I couldn't just lie there in bed any longer."

"I've been there before," Rossi said. "You needed to cool down, to work off your feelings. That's understandable. Everyone has moments like those."

Reid squirmed, still obviously embarrassed, but it was the bleakness in his eyes that Rossi didn't like. They sat silently for a few moments and Rossi thought maybe the conversation had died before it had begun. "We could go somewhere else if you'd like; the breakfast crowd should be coming in soon," the older man offered. "Actually, I'm surprised the place isn't more crowded already."

"Perhaps they find the décor a little inhibiting first thing in the morning," Reid remarked.

Rossi chuckled as he looked around. "It is a little heavy on the pink and sea foam green, isn't it?"

"Wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't mixed with all the aqua and purple as well. And silver. And the black and white checkerboard floors. And those cherry-red starburst clocks on the wall. You lived through the fifties - was it really like this?"

"Is this your way of calling me old? _'__Oh, tell me what it was like when dinosaurs ruled the Earth, Grandpa!_' "

"No, what I believe I'm doing is implying your generation may have been colour blind," Reid said with a slight smirk.

"So says the man from _Vegas_. I think if anyone could take the sensory overload of this place it should be a town that lives with the lights of the Las Vegas strip."

"Well, you've got me there," Reid said.

"So do you want to get going?"

Reid shrugged again and Rossi felt the sudden ease of the last few minutes draining away. "I'm in no hurry," Reid said. "Unless there's somewhere you want to go?"

"I'm good," Rossi said. "So tell me, where's your phone?"

"In seventy-one pieces in the trash can of my mother's bathroom at Bennington."

"Ah."

"It was Friday night and - "

"Let me guess: you were in the middle of trying to comfort your mother and it kept ringing and when you finally looked at it, you saw all of our messages scolding for not being at the cooking lesson."

"You didn't send any," Reid argued.

"Maybe not, but I could have told the rest of them to lay off."

"Maybe you agreed with them."

Rossi thought about it. "Honestly, no. At least not completely. Sure, I was a little disappointed when you didn't show, but people have to get over things in their own time. If you're still sniping at J.J. a month from now, I might change my mind, but it seems unfair to paint you as the bad guy just because you're having trouble getting past your resentment according to other people's schedules."

For the first time that morning, Reid was able to meet his gaze, giving Rossi a weary but genuine smile. However, the conversation stalled a bit. The two men watched the pedestrians outside for some time, each unknowingly playing the same game of picking out the tourists from the heavy-duty early morning gamblers. It was just as Rossi was getting up to order some more coffee that Reid suddenly took a deep breath and said:

"Emily was the first person I ever knew who died."

Rossi immediately settled himself again, giving Reid his full attention.

"Well, that's not entirely true," Reid went on. "I did have an Uncle Daniel who died when I was young, but I don't remember him that clearly. Emily was the first person I really knew… or thought I did," he corrected a touch bitterly, "who was taken from me rather than just walking out. I mean, my father, Elle, Gideon, they all left, but they weren't _gone_. I comforted myself with the idea that they could always come back someday. But Emily was ripped away and I hadn't even gotten the chance to say goodbye and the pain - " He broke off and Rossi had a sudden surge of sympathy for him. _It was his first taste of grief - why didn__'__t any of us think of that? Morgan, Garcia and I had all been through it before, but for him it was all brand new. _

"You know, when she came back," Reid went on, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache, "for a minute I thought I was hallucinating. I thought I'd finally had the schizophrenic break I'd been having nightmares about my entire life, so I don't know, maybe I should have been _relieved_ to find out it was only three of my best friends lying to me and torturing me by making me think one of them was dead when really she was simply the latest person to walk away."

"Jesus, kid! Are you really that concerned about your mind?" Rossi asked worriedly.

Reid bit his lip. "I've been having a lot of migraines lately. Bad ones. And that… that can be a symptom."

"So to have what you think is a hallucination on top of that - "

"Yeah."

Rossi breathed out heavily. "Wow, this whole thing really did a number on you, didn't it?"

"You don't know the half of it."

"So tell me. I'm listening."

Reid wrapped his fingers around his coffee, staring into the cup as if it held all the world's answers. "Crying on J.J's shoulder… That was the first time I'd ever really reached out to anyone. I mean, the team has offered help from time to time and I've accepted it, but that was the first time I'd ever really opened myself up like that on my own. So then what happens? I get my trust thrown back in my face just when I need my friends the most. And not just by the whole lie, but by J.J. pretty much coming out and telling me it was my fault I fell for it, because I didn't catch her and Hotch's 'micro-expressions'. And now I find out there were apparently a lot of clues I missed, all because I was too _dumb_ to look for deception in my so-called friends' expressions of comfort."

"Reid…"

The younger man held his hand up. "Don't start, Rossi. I know. I know - she _had_ to. She probably felt terrible doing it. Logically, I know it. And I know she probably cares for me; you don't make someone your child's godfather out of pity, after all. Especially when you and your partner are both in dangerous lines of work and needing a guardian for your son is a real possibility. But do you have any idea of how hard it was for me to trust her in the first place?"

"Why? Why was it so difficult?" Rossi asked, encouraging Reid to go on.

"You know what really bothered me about the Owen Savage case?" Reid asked, suddenly looking up at Rossi. "It wasn't just the bullying. It was the fact that no one around him - not his father, not his teachers, not _anyone_ older - tried to help. If they weren't one of the ones making it worse, then they were just standing on the sidelines, watching him suffer. I know I made a lot of stupid mistakes on that case, but I _knew_, Rossi. I knew exactly what that felt like. Literally _and_ figuratively. My father, a mere nine miles away, collecting newspaper articles on me for his scrapbook. You know what really would have helped? A few bucks for the electricity bill so the power getting shut off and the house going dark didn't push my mother into an episode. My aunt Ethel, who could monitor the length of my hair, but not bother to check and see if I was getting anything to eat besides things I could make in the toaster. Harper Hillman and Alexa Lisbon and all the hulking troglodytes on the football team, gawking and laughing after tying me naked to a goal post and then leaving me there for the night - "

"What?" Rossi interrupted with a sputter.

"It's not important, Rossi."

"Reid - "

"_It__'__s not important, Rossi_," Reid emphasized again, nearly hissing. "It was just one more instance of people standing around and watching me suffer. Sometimes even the team did it, though in their case they couldn't always help it. But it happened. They stared at me as I was tortured onscreen during the Hankel case. I know they were doing their best to find me, but a small part of me couldn't help but feel violated by the exposure, of knowing they were _watching_ me go through that.

"And then they watched as I became an addict.

"I don't blame you. You weren't with us when it happened. You weren't even with us yet when I got clean.* I don't even blame them really. As much as losing my job would've been difficult, I never, ever could have stayed clean if I'd known I'd cost one or more of them their careers as well. But it still didn't change the fact I had to do it alone. There was no intervention; I had to decided to stop all on my own. I went through withdrawals by myself. I cleaned up afterwards by myself. I found a NA meeting by myself and forced myself to go. Perhaps it was even for the best; going to NA is a decision you're supposed to make for yourself. But all of this meant I couldn't talk about it to anyone. I knew it was for my benefit - that's how I got to keep my job, because officially none of it ever happened - but it still meant that once again I was hurting and everyone was content to just stand around and watch.

"So why would I ever reach out, huh Rossi? Maybe a lot of it is my fault for not asking, but growing up with no one but my mother, it became ingrained in me not to. Asking for help then would have brought dangerous questions and likely got me thrown into the foster system and Mom into some institution they do stories about on _60 Minutes_. I literally couldn't go to anyone for help. I couldn't even let anyone get too close in case they put the pieces together. I had to hold on until I was eighteen so that I could get my mother into a place that _I _chose, and not the State.

"But even if I could manage to get past that particular learned response, why would I ask for help? What event in my life would even give me the _expectation_ people would help? Some of them had to have been aware of how much trouble I was in, but no one ever did anything. At best I was ignored, just like always. At worst, I was laughed at and tormented, and even assaulted. Hell, I was a too-small eleven year old surrounded by fully grown eighteen year old football players and fully grown teachers and neighbours and bank tellers who let me cash my mother's pension check, all just waiting to take advantage. Asking for help would only have revealed my weakness and let them prey on me further.

"I know this all sounds terribly self-pitying, but quite frankly, after all that I went through, not to mention all of those years where the only person I had any meaningful human contact with was mentally ill, it's a wonder I can relate to people at all, let alone let anyone in.

"So now this. The team spends years reassuring me, picking away at me, saying over and over again, _'__You can tell us anything. Come on, Reid, let us help you,__' _and so, when I finally do, it turns out J.J. is just another mean girl, pretending to be my friend, all so she can leave me metaphorically naked on the field again and then laugh."

"I'm sorry all of those things happened to you, Spencer," Rossi said.

"But…?"

"No. No buts."

Reid's brow furrowed with suspicion. "You're not going to tell me it's not really her fault? That she and Hotch and Emily had to do it?"

"Why would I tell you what you already know? And I know that you do know it, not just because you've said as much, but because you're too smart and too perceptive not to. So what would be the point of making you feel worse? Of putting you on the defensive just because you're human and your heart hasn't got over the wound as quick as your head?"

Reid tapped his nails against the ceramic coffee mug in his hands, gazing at the traffic which was picking up outside. "I'm trying, you know?"

"I know."

"I keep reminding myself why she and Hotch did what they did. I ask myself how I could even expect them to do anything less to protect Emily. It's just that they triggered all of these memories for me. Now, every time I look at them, I flinch. I feel sick. When I have nightmares about what Alexa and Harper and the football team did to me, I see J.J. and Emily and Hotch. And even if I forgive them, I don't know if I'll ever be able to trust them again because I'll always carry this memory. I'm afraid I won't even be able to trust them in the field. My head asks why wouldn't I, but viscerally, deep down in my gut, I'm waiting for them to betray me and that's making me second guess everything, including myself. I know all of this doubt is partly coming out of the irrationality of anger, but…"

"But they did actually damage your trust in them," Rossi said. "That's not unreasonable. But maybe it can be built back up again. All of you will have to work at it, but don't beat yourself up if it doesn't happen overnight, Spencer - this is going to take a long time to fix. You do that and I'll make sure the others don't beat you up for the same thing."

"How do I know it's worth the risk?" Reid asked.

"Kid, I've been married three times - I know what it's like to have your heart go through the shredder because you feel betrayed by those closest to you, but I also learned that if you keep trying to reach out even after you keep getting slapped down, sometimes it pays off."

"I suppose so. But what I really meant is what if I have to quit the team? If my Mom turns out to be sick, I can't keep making the commute from Washington to here. I'll have to move back."

"Give it a try anyway. I know we all missed this crisis, and you certainly have good reason for your feelings not being altogether friendly towards us at the moment, but don't turn away potential help or comfort, Spencer," Rossi said gently. "Besides, if you leave it as is, you'll come to regret it, even if it's just for the unfinished mess left behind. And, like I said the other night, you don't need regrets on top of everything else."

"You know, you didn't miss this crisis. You've done a lot for me over the last two days."

"The others would have too, if you'd let them. But I understand why it was hard. Hell, kid, worrying about your mom, about your own health, migraines, nightmares, feeling betrayed… no wonder you've been overwhelmed."

"Still, I want to say… you know, _thank you. _And I intend to pay for my half of the hotel room - "

"Hell, Reid, save your money," Rossi interrupted, waving him off. "It's not like I can't afford it."

"What does that matter?"

"Honestly, Reid… _Spencer_… don't bother. Let me do this for you."

"Rossi, I don't feel right -"

"_Reid_, you might need it soon." _If your mother is sick_, was the thought he left unsaid.

The poor kid looked on the verge of tears. "All right. If you insist. Thank you," he mumbled hoarsely.

"I do and you're welcome. Now come on," Rossi said, rising out of the booth. "You can't let your mother see you looking wrung out as an old dishtowel. Let's go back to the hotel and freshen up a bit before you go over to the hospital."

Rossi paid the bill and the two men left. That night, after Reid had seen his mother's transfer safely back to Bennington and spent some time with her, they caught their plane back to D.C. As the emotionally worn out Reid slept propped against the cabin's window, it was only then that Rossi realized to his horror that he had forgotten to call Garcia!

_-x-_

_Three weeks later__…_

The team, minus Reid, were on their way back from a case in San Diego when Rossi's phone buzzed. Checking his messages, he smiled.

"What is it, Dave?" Hotch asked.

"J.J, get Penelope onscreen. Morgan, get the bottle I've got stashed in the compartment over there," Rossi said. J.J. and Morgan looked mildly puzzled, but did what they were asked.

"What do you need, crime-fighters? I thought the case was over," Garcia said as her face popped up on the computer.

"Have you got something to drink there, Kitten?" Rossi asked.

"Now, what's a goddess without libations?" Garcia shot back and quickly found one of the wine coolers she had hidden in her lair for secret celebrations.

Once everyone had a glass, Rossi announced, "I just had a text from our favourite genius. It seems his mother is perfectly fine and well!"

Garcia squealed with happiness and the rest of the team cheered.

"I'm so happy for him!" J.J. said, her voice breaking and tears sparkling in her eyes.

"Me too. I don't know what he would have done without his Mom," Garcia said.

"I don't know what _we_ would have done without _him_," Morgan added.

"Here, here!" Emily said.

"I, for one, am as relieved as hell!" Rossi exclaimed fervently, causing the others to laugh in agreement.

"But this isn't right," Emily suddenly said after the team had started chattering merrily and drinking away. "He should be here for the celebration!"

"I think the best way the kid could celebrate would be to sleep for the next month," Rossi replied. The team had started, slowly and with some trepidation, re-building its relationships for the last little bit, but Reid's worry for his mother had still taken a large toll on the young man.

"That sounds like a plan," Hotch said, putting down his glass to take out his phone. "I'll let him know he can have the week off."

"He should stay with his Mom, but tell him if he wants to come home now, I'll pick him up at the airport," Garcia offered and Hotch nodded.

"And tell him if he stays, room service at his hotel will be on my tab," Rossi said. "And tell him I won't take no for an answer!"

When Hotch relayed Reid's thanks a few minutes later, Rossi merely raised his glass in acknowledgement, looking around at the family he'd unexpectedly been given so late in life and thinking of how close it had come to being broken.

_Think nothing of it, Spencer_, he thought to himself. _The price is nothing to what your heart has allowed me to keep. _

_._

* * *

* I'm basing this off of something Reid said in "Elephant's Memory". He said he'd been clean for about ten months, so if we take the events as happening the same time the episode aired (April '08), that would mean he got clean roughly around June of '07, when Gideon was still around. Since "Revelations" happened in February of 2007, I also figure that means Reid was on drugs for about four months.

As for him going through it alone, part of that was based on the fact that it was never talked about, and part because I always thought the team looked a little surprised and worried whenever a clue would come up, such as Emily's look when Reid knew about amends letters in "A Higher Power". (His first meeting was in the next episode, so likely he was merely reading up on their literature at that point.)

_Author's note:_

_Well, there you go - a lot of angst, not much plot, but a happy ending! And let me say one last thank you to all of my readers! It's been a pleasure writing this for you!_

_Also, I don't know if anybody spotted the time zone mistake in the last chapter, but if you did, hey, full points to you for not saying it!_


End file.
